Going on Retreat Part Two: Saturday Afternoon

Brilliant Saturday afternoon under the oak trees

Part one is here

So after lunch we had free time until 3:00, when the Divine Mercy Chaplet would be said in the chapel. Priests were available for confession, but other than that, there were no talks planned and you could do whatever you wanted.

Since it was a gorgeous fall day, I went outside to spend some time enjoying the weather while I read my books. I read more of I Believe In Love and wrote a few thoughts in my journal. Some people were making the stations of the cross at the outdoor set that’s been erected, which I would have done, but we were saying stations communally at 5, and I was going to do that.

I took a really brief nap—10 minutes!— then went to the chapel, prayed a bit, and read some more. There’s a small side chapel where I like to sit:

The view from the side chapel

Interior of the side chapel

The reliquary of St. Therese and St. Margaret Mary Alocoque (who promoted devotion to the Sacred Heart) is also in here.

St. Margaret Mary’s relic is on the left, and the other two are St. Therese. The documents are certificates that the relics are authentic.

This is the hardest part of retreat to describe, because it’s so interior, but to me it’s also the best part. Yes, I pray, yes, I read, but I also just talk to God, and listen to His replies. What is He saying to me? What is He asking me?

It’s also a good time to take stock of where I am in my religious life. Is it going well, or not? Am I more fervent than I was a year ago, or not? Does my schedule need adjusted so I have more time for prayer? What is stopping me or hindering my prayer? Distractions? Laziness? (Meaning, I just don’t make time for prayer, when I know I could and should be praying?) Venerable Fulton Sheen said that the spiritual life is meant to grow, not stay stagnant. It’s like our bodies—they have to continually grow. If our bodies stopped growing, we’d be in trouble! So the spiritual life is like that, which is one of the reasons retreat is so important. We have to check in, and it’s a lot easier to do when there aren’t any distractions and it’s quiet!

So I write, and I read, and I ponder, and I listen.

Statue of St. Therese in the main conference room.

After the quiet period, we had the second conference, this time on Baptism, its roots in the Bible and Jewish tradition, and some other points.

Some of the quotes from Fr. Stephen:

“Genesis is like algebra—it’s about relationships.”

“We have a duty to participate in God’s life, with even deeper communion and even deeper fellowship.”

“God’s commitment to us began at our own baptism. Our mission is revealed—we are bound to Christ.”

“We read Scripture in its totality!”

And one of my favorite things I took away from the conference—anxiety and fear push us into a moment that doesn’t exist yet, and it might never exist! In those moments, call upon God who loves you and ask Him for help and what I should do.

St. Therese in the chapel—this statue isn’t normally there, so I’m not sure if they moved it here for her feast day celebration or if it’s a new addition. Either way, I loved it!

At 5:00, we said stations of the cross in the chapel, followed by Vespers and then dinner. The third conference, on the Eucharist, was at 6:45, and as always, in between things you had your own time and space to pray or read or rest or whatever you wanted to do.

(After dinner I actually went on a walk with a friend—Olivia—that I “knew” on Twitter—it was so nice to meet her in person!)

The Eucharist talk was extremely enlightening because it connected our celebration of th Eucharist with the Jewish tradition and really drew strong parallels, as well as illustrating how Jesus was in no way speaking metaphorically in the Bread of Life discourse (John 6). Fr. Stephen mentioned Scott Hahn’s The Fourth Cup, which I haven’t read yet (but will!), but I have read (and am currently re-reading) Brant Pitre’s Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist, which is a full, book-length treatise on Fr. Stephen’s topic and is a wonderful explanation fo the Eucharist. It’s sort of mind-blowing, actually.

(This is where retreat is a vacation, yes, but it also causes you to learn, if it’s a good retreat. Yay learning! Yay knowing more about our faith!)

(In fact, one of the most mind-blowing things Fr. Stephen shared was this: the Passover lambs, used for sacrifice at Passover in the Temple, were specially raised, because they had to slaughter more than two hundred thousand of them every year. So there were whole flocks just of these pascal lambs.

These lambs were raised in Bethlehem.

The flocks that the shepherds were guarding on Christmas were…..lambs of sacrifice.

The paschal lambs were at the birth of the Paschal Lamb!)

Our Lady of Perpetual Help in the chapel.

We had one of my favorite things—Eucharistic Exposition—at 8:00. This means that the Eucharist is displayed in the monstrance, and we have all-night vigil, because you can’t leave the Exposed Host alone. So all night, women came and went from the chapel to spend time with Jesus in prayer.

My hour was from 10 to 11. Before then, I had changed into my pajamas and slippers —yes I went to the chapel in my Corgi pants and slippers!—and took my meds so that when I got back I could just go to bed.

Adoration is really a beautiful thing, and holy hours are my favorite way to pray. If you don’t make them, I highly highly highly recommend it, and so do the saints!

After holy hour, I went to bed, because the alarm would go off at 7 again, for the last part of the retreat….

Going on Retreat: Vacation With God

Vacation with God?

Seriously, Emily?

Yes. Because to me, retreat is definitely part-vacation.

Think about it:

You don’t have to do any laundry or cleaning.

The food is provided for you.

There’s constant tea and coffee available, so you don’t even have to make your daily cuppa.

You can sleep whenever you want, in a private room. No one comes in and bothers you!

I mean, this sounds pretty good, right? At the least it’s a vacation from laundry, phone calls, and cooking!

A retreat is really as detached as you want to make it. You can choose to bring your laptop and check the news every hour. You can scroll on your phone. You can call your kids. But really, the best retreats—and by best, I mean most fruitful, in my opinion—are the ones when you are, as the Carthusians say, “alone with the Alone.”

*

Every retreat I’ve ever been on has been silent. I started going on them when I was in my mid-twenties, and they’ve always been in the same place—St. Therese’s Retreat House, here in town, about ten minutes from where I live. Silence has an appeal to me on a few levels—one, ever since my hearing went south, I like having a few days when I don’t have to listen to people, and try to understand what they’re saying, and two, because I also like to talk, it’s good for me to not talk. It’s good to just be quiet.

I realize that not everyone likes silence as much as I do, but I do think it’s important to shut up and listen to God every once in awhile, and that’s really what retreat is—that time to sit down, shut up, and focus on God for a few days.

Spiritually, we need retreat. We need it the same way we need vacation. (When I don’t take a vacation, I can tell. My body can tell. When I don’t go on retreat, it’s the same deal.)

I highly recommend everyone look into taking one, even if it’s a “quiet day” offered by a local parish, where it’s a few hours of silence, or a day of recollection. They’re important for our spiritual lives.

*

So I’ve talked a lot about retreat on my blog before, but this time I thought I’d walk you through what happens. This is going to be a multi-parter, so here I’ll take you through Saturday morning.

A look at the “old” residential part of the retreat house.

These retreats run from around 5:00 on Friday to around noon on Sunday. They are usually “preached”, meaning that there’s a priest who will give talks around a certain theme. I’ve heard them preached on the seven deadly sins, Mary, St. Therese, and this one was about the Sacraments of Initiation and their Biblical roots. Every one I’ve gone to has been preached by a priest (which I prefer, because then you have access to the sacraments in an easier way than if, say, a sister/nun or a layperson preaches the retreat, and a priest has to be brought in). I try to go to one a year, but they’re offered twice a year, once in the fall and once in the spring.

The amount of talks vary—anywhere from three to five—this one had four. There is daily Mass and the opportunity for confession, as well as other devotional practices.

The important thing to remember is that you do not have to do any of these things. I mean, obviously, you went on retreat to pray, and you probably should go to Mass. :) But if you want to sleep in and miss morning prayer, that’s fine. If you don’t want to go to every conference, that’s fine. Etc. No one is taking attendance and no one will make you go or do anything. It’s your retreat.

Some retreat guides tell you not to bring books. I laugh at this. To me, books—spiritual reading only—are fabulous springboards into prayer or examination. I generally bring a few. I don’t read them all, and I’m not speed reading, but I do find them really useful, and I always have. If you don’t, then don’t bring them. Most retreat houses have books/a library/materials around for you to read if you want to, and they always have Bibles. (Bring your Bible, for sure.)

The retreat house/organizers will tell you what you need to bring. Towels, linens for the bed, etc. are provided, but if they don’t tell you, contact them and ask. (My first retreat I didn’t know linens and pillows were provided so I brought them! Ha!) You’ll need comfortable clothes. Generally, in my experience people tend to bring something a little nicer for the Sunday Mass, but it’s not a fashion show. You might want to bring a few snacks of the non-perishable variety. (I always do, because I have to take my evening meds with food. We get good meals at the retreat house, but no snacks.)

*

The Lourdes Grotto on the property

I try to arrive early, as in before five, and check in. Once you check in your get your room assignment, so you can go unpack and settle in before the retreat begins. There are sign-up forms for volunteering to help with devotions and the Masses throughout the retreat—I always sign up to do one of the readings, because I really love being a lector at Mass and I rarely get the chance to do it!

I generally go to my room, unpack, set up my alarm clock (very important, since I won’t hear the bell that the retreat league uses to wake us up!), then go to the grotto (above), to pray a bit, usually a rosary. If the weather’s bad, I go to the chapel. This serves as a way to bring my mind into retreat and to slooooooooow down. It helps me forget about traffic, anything that’s been bugging me, any extraneous things—it’s just me and the prayers.

The retreat starts in the main conference room around 6:00, when one of the women from the retreat league welcomes us, talks us through the layout of the retreat and the house, and gives any housekeeping notices. Dinner is after this in the dining room, and we can talk at dinner. The food is always great.

After dinner, silence begins. This year, we didn’t have a conference on Friday night. We went right from dinner to Mass and vespers. Mass was at 7:45. (Dinner doesn’t take an hour to eat—so we were OK with the fast before Mass!) After Mass there was abbreviated Vespers (I said that plus my own Vespers from the Liturgy of the Hours [LOH]), and then after that, there were confessions with two priests. I went to confession, said my penance, and then went to my room to get ready for bed and go to sleep.

On retreat, confessions can be a little longer—people tend to confess more, in my experience, and priests also tend to offer a bit more counsel. So if you’re in line, be prepared to wait a bit, and remember that if you have questions or want counsel, the priest will give it to you too (usually. Some don’t.).

There is no “lights out”. You can stay in the chapel if you want. You can read in the main lounge. As long as you’re quiet, you can pretty much do whatever you want.

After confession I went back to my room with a cup of hot cocoa, took my meds, read a bit, and then went to bed. My alarm was set for 7, and hopefully it wouldn’t be so loud that it would terrify everyone else into awakeness. :)

*

Saturday morning

My alarm did not wake everyone, yay, but it got me up at seven. The bell rang at 7:30 but I like to give myself a little leeway to get ready—I don’t like to be rushed in the morning if at all possible. At 8:15 there was lauds in the chapel, and then we had breakfast. I had gotten to the chapel early so I said the LOH and had some mental prayer before we prayed in common.

Morning prayer

After breakfast at 8:30, we had the first conference of the retreat, setting out the general overview and talking about the use of light and dark in Scripture, echoes between Genesis and revelation, how water and light are used, and things like that—providing an overview to the Sacraments we were going to study. “Christ provides absolute concrete stability,” Fr. Stephen said. Which is true!

After the conference, we said the rosary in the chapel (joyful mysteries, since it was Saturday—I prayed for all of you!), and then had Mass, followed by lunch.

I was reading The Story of a Soul, which I hadn’t read in a long time, and I was also reading I Believe In Love, which is one of my favorite books ever, and is based on the teachings of St. Therese. So both those books complemented each other and provided a lot of material for prayer and pondering.

Meals in silence aren’t really that hard—you just have to be aware of what people want. Since I use my eyes more than the normal bear anyway (because I can’t hear as well as y’all can, so I have to use my eyes to survey the surroundings and get information), it’s easier for me to see when someone might want the bread basket or the water pitcher. There’s quiet instrumental music playing in the background, so it’s not silent silent.

In the next post I’ll talk about the rest of Saturday!

Seven Quick Takes--St. Francis, Forgiveness, and Fear

linking up with Kelly!

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Why yes, I am alliterating my titles.

To start with St. Francis—it’s his feast day! Dominicans celebrate the feast days of Franciscans (and vice versa!), because we just love each other that much. :) Well, we do, but here’s the story.

St. Francis and St. Dominic, Fra Angelico

So, happy Feast Day, Franciscans! We celebrate with you!

-2-

Might be a good time to remind everyone that St. Francis didn’t really give us the “Prayer of St. Francis” (it was written in the 60s) and that he did more than just like animals. St. Francis was a pretty bad-ass saint. The Word on Fire documentary about him in The Pivotal Players is eye-opening, if you’ve only ever thought of him that way. This piece is a good overview.

-3-

OK, Forgiveness.

This is just a reflection—a thought—on something I’ve been pondering this week.

I’m 37. That means in three years, I’ll be 40 (God willing and the creek don’t rise). That’s a good chunk of time living on planet earth. That’s two score of years!

But one thing I have noticed in those almost 40 years is how vital forgiveness is, how terrible it is for a person who doesn’t forgive past things to be weighed down by that anger and resentment and pain.

Holding on to that anger does nothing to the person who wronged you. It hurts you.

Some things aren’t possible to forgive easily. That’s true. They require work and prayer and maybe sessions with therapists or other professionals.

But after seeing a teenager forgive the woman who murdered his brother—he hugged her, for pete’s sake!—it just brought home to me how vital this call of Christ is.

We’re called to forgive the way we want to be forgiven.

I honestly don’t know how this young man did this. Christ works strongly in his life, is all I can say. If someone killed my brother, I’d be….full of rage. I’d be absolutely incapable of this kind of grace, at least at this point.

This teenager puts me to shame.

And in a way, this ties into St. Francis and his story about perfect joy (I excerpted this from a longer piece that you can read here.)

“One day, on the road home, Francis was walking with Br. Leo. Francis said to Br. Leo; ‘If the Order of Friars became world famous for doing good works, and spreading the Gospel, this would not be perfect joy. Br. Leo asked, ‘Father Francis, what then would be perfect joy?’ Francis responded, ‘If all the most famous and powerful people in the land entered the Order of Friars, and worked with us proclaiming the Gospel, healing the sick, caring for the poor, and converting many souls to Christ, this would not be perfect joy!’ Br. Leo then says, ‘Please Father Francis, tell me what is perfect joy!’ Francis said; ‘Brother Leo, if we come to our friary, after this long journey, tired, wet, cold, and hungry, longing for a meal, and a warm dry place to sleep, and we knock on the door, and hear from within our brothers who ask, ‘Who are You?’ We respond that we are your brothers coming home from a long journey, and we wish for you to let us in. But instead of the welcome we long for, we hear a response from inside, go away; we do not know who you are. We are expecting no one, you must be liars and thieves, intending to harm us! If, Brother Leo, after that, we can still have peace in our heart, that is Perfect Joy!’”

Man. I have such a long way to go to achieve perfect joy.

But back to forgiveness—run of the mill forgiveness—in the words of Into the Woods, “People make mistakes!” And they do. We’re hurt in all sorts of little ways that the other person might not even notice. But we have a choice. We can either hold on to that hurt and let it poison us (because it doesn’t poison the other person), or we can forgive and stop poisoning ourselves.

This isn’t new ground. But it’s something I’ve been thinking about this week.

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And that leads us to fear! (And then we’ll do some fun things, I promise, so this isn’t all heavy.)

Satan loves fear. He loves to play on our sense of inadequacy and comparison and uncertainty. He love, love, loves it.

Christ does not call us to fear. He calls us to trust and joy and hope.

So, if you’re feeling a lot of fear or doubt or inadequacy—tell Satan to get behind you and that Mary is crushing his head. :) And so is St. Michael.

(Do you say the St. Michael prayer daily? I recommend it!)

-V-

On the blog this week:

Yarn Along

St. Therese!

-VI-

BOOK STUFF!

The cover is 99% done. I love it and can’t wait to show it to you.

I’ve read the forward for the book and I love it. Can’t wait to tell you who’s writing it.

Basically it’s a lot of I love what’s happening but I can’t tell you yet! :)

(If you want to be the first to know, sign up for the newsletter…..)

-VII-

So glad to be going on retreat. If you have prayer requests, hit me up!

A Simple Life One: Reset Day

How can we, twenty-first century folk, who are super connected and crazy busy, create a life that’s simple, but yet is full of what we want—the good things of life?

How do we disconnect from all the crazy voices that surround us, and instead focus on the voice of God?

It’s not easy.

So I’m going to write an (occasional) series on how we can create simplicity in our lives, that gives us space and margin, but also is practical and do-able.

( Before we start:

I’m single. Yes. I know that makes my life easier in many ways. I’m only responsible for myself, all the food in the house is what I want to eat, I don’t have to clean up after anyone or put anyone to bed or take anyone to school.

At the same time, though, I also don’t have any help. No one else can go to the store or cook dinner for me. Everything I do, is done by me.

So I don’t want an argument in the comments section about how I’m single and I don’t know what I’m talking about, or how easy married people have it.

There are pros and cons to everything. The end. )

*

One of my favorite things to do is make a list. I’m a huge list maker. So I’d suggest beginning that way here as well, by taking a “reset day.”

I discovered this from this The Art of Manliness post, and Kristin Foss also talks about it in her Daily Tidy workbook.

Essentially, you clear the decks, both physically (as in, your physical space) and mentally.

The Art of Manliness suggests taking a day off to do this. Now, again, I can do this whenever I want, because I have no boss. If you are like most everyone else, then you might want to approach this differently. Break each step down into days, i.e., one “hour” per day. (The things don’t all take an hour. at least not in my experience.) Break it up so you can do it at a pace that is doable to you. The post suggests that taking a day off might motivate you to stick to the routine you establish, because you’re giving up a vacation day to do it, and thus you won’t want to do it again. I think that has some sense to it. But if you can’t do that, then no sweat.

If you have children, I still think you can do this. The first step is to “clean the house”, but it’s really, do what you can in an hour. Put things away, do the dishes, take out the trash, make the beds—the “low lying fruit” so to speak. This isn’t the time to deep clean. It’s the time to deal with the surface clutter that nevertheless causes issues and creates frustration.

The second step, “Brain dump”, can be done anywhere, really. You can do it during your lunch break, at a coffee shop, after the kids go to bed, when they’re napping—really, whenever. You can do it right before you go to bed.

The third, “Take care of as many to-dos as you can”, is also pretty practical. Remember that, if you’re following the layout here, you’re limiting everything to an hour. You’re not doing to-dos all day, and the timed nature of it is what makes it helpful in my opinion. You can only do so many errands or to-dos in one hour, but anything you get done is better than nothing!

Steps four-eight, I’ll leave you to discover by following the link. But remember that it’s just an hour, and if you have to break this up over eight days, you can. Tweak it so it works for you.

By doing a reset day, you’re giving yourself a clean slate and eliminating little naggy things. You’re giving yourself margin.

Leila Lawler has a great post about how washing your hair and cleaning the floors can remove the sense of Futility About Your Life, and it’s true. Those little naggy things can make you feel awful—they take up so much brain space! By doing just a few small things, you can feel like a new person!

(For me, it’s vacuuming. When I have clean hair and I’ve vacuumed, I feel very content with myself and my life.)

And, also as Leila says, when you’ve gotten rid of this mental and physical clutter, you can free up your mind for other things (like prayer! And creativity!). (And I can’t find the post now and I’m going nuts, but trust me, it’s there somewhere!)

(Now, if a list-making totally overwhelms you…..then don’t make one, but I generally find the opposite happens. It makes me feel better about myself because it’s all there on paper!)

I think in order to start any talk about simplicity, we have to get things into at least a modicum of order.

So to this, I’d add a few other things:

Do you have a first aid kit?

Do you have wiper fluid and jumper cables and such in your car? (Because winter is coming!)

Do you know where all your important documents (birth certificates, passports, etc.) are?

If you want to simplify your life, get a reset day on the schedule.

I also suggest this post, from Auntie Leila: 10 Ways to Rescue A Bad Day

Of course there are lots of other things to talk about, and we’ll try to cover them—basic tidying stuff (because I am a work in progress here, aren’t we all?), cleaning, meal planning, finances, all that stuff. I’m not writing these because I Know All. I’m writing them because I have learned some things and in some areas I need more help, but you know, let’s get together and share our thoughts and help each other out!)

Amber

“The Song of the Lark”

Amber has joined my buddy Sage.

It’s sort of funny. It used to be that CF kids knew each other more than I did—we’d have wards and camps and so people had lots of CF friends. I never did, because that was all on the way out when I was diagnosed. I knew one kid from my first admission—Elvis (yes, that’s his name)—but I never saw him again after those two weeks of my first admit. (Although, in a strange twist of fate, one of my best college friends was from his hometown, and his mom was his teacher.)

There was Jenny, my freshman year of college—we were on the same dorm floor. I don’t know what happened to her.

But post transplant, I met more people with CF. Sage. Piper. People on Facebook. Kathleen. And Amber.

Unlike Sage, I had met Amber several times. She was the second transplant at our center (I was first, a fact that was a bee in her bonnet for awhile. Cracked me up.). She was younger than me, around my brother’s age (she was born in 1986). She’d been diagnosed with CF the normal way—as a little kid—but she lived nearer the Toledo center so that’s where she got her CF treatment.

We were both writers—she wrote a book called Breathtaking about her experience—and we both went to small Ohio colleges. (She had started at Cedarville University, but couldn’t finish because she got too sick, and eventually graduated from Moody Bible College.) She had a husband and they had adopted a little boy named Noah. He started preschool this month.

Amber had been in rejection for about two years, but she was a force. I mean, I’d never met anyone who was so unapologetic about herself, her life, her goals. She just told you whatever she thought, right out. “You can’t say that to people!” I”d tell her.

“Why not?”

Eventually, some of this rubbed off on me in dealing with our doctors. Ha.

She was just so unapologetically her. Honest, open, passionate, feisty. You always knew what she thought. But she wasn’t mean. She was just open in a way that a lot of people aren’t.

For two years she’d been driving from her home in northwest Ohio to get treatments at The Resort, to try to keep herself alive. There was talk of listing her for a second transplant.

I last saw her in July, at clinic. Clinic days are Mondays and so generally you tend to see other pre and post transplant patients at the same time in the halls and labs and in outpatient radiology. We got to catch up a bit, which was nice, because we hadn’t in awhile. She was carrying around a portable oxygen tank (when I say portable, it really was—it could be slung over your shoulder like a purse), but she was still fiery. Still giving me crap for wearing a skirt to the doctor’s. :-p “Comfort!” She said. And she was right, but I told her I preferred to use my feminine wiles to make the doctors do what I want. I was kidding, and she knew it, and we laughed about it.

I had seen on Instagram that she had missed an outing with her son to the zoo on Labor Day. But I thought she was okay. I have a news feed filter on my facebook app—basically, i don’t see scrolling updates anymore—so I had completely missed that she had been admitted with pneumonia and they had bronched her and she was in the ICU while they figured out a long-term plan.

I messaged her on Wednesday, to ask her a question about treatment. It was my brother’s birthday.

I got from his birthday dinner that night to find a message from her husband—Amber had died on Monday morning.

*

I don’t know why I’m alive, still, and Sage and Amber aren’t. Part of it is the idea that their journey, what God wanted them to do with their lives, was “complete”, I guess. And I’m not done. Which, I mean, is fine, I like being alive. But why me? Why not them too? Why are their husbands widowers, why is Noah without a mom, why did George the dog never see Sage come home? Why? Why do my siblings get to have me, and their siblings don’t?

I don’t know. I know God knows, I know He has his reasons, but I don’t know how much that really helps right now.

In Amber’s case, she had almost fourteen extra years. Her transplant anniversary was September 25. In those fourteen years, she wrote her book, she traveled to speak, she got married, she adopted Noah. She had extra time that she never would’ve had other wise.

But she was still only 33. Sage got an extra year of life, she had a wonderful husband and family and the sweet pups and even sweeter nieces and nephews.

I’m older than both of them.

A lot of people, post transplant, experience the feeling that they need to live for their donor. That they’re sort of entrusted with continuing the donor’s life as well as their own.

I never really felt that—probably because my donor was older, so it wasn’t like another 23 year old had died. (I’m not denigrating my donor’s gift, obviously! OBVIOUSLY. Just trying to explain how I feel.)

But I do feel, now, like I’m living for them. Sometimes I know Sage wants me to do something, to be brave and to ride it out.

And now I’ll feel Amber yelling at me to be honest and tell them how I really feel and figure stuff out, dang it. To just do x.

Both Amber and Sage had strong faith. I know that they’re happy. (I mean, one has to be happy when beholding the beatific vision, right?)

But gosh, I miss them both.

Miracles (and suffering)

(This might not make a lot of sense, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about this week, so I thought I’d share with you.)

How do you define a miracle?

Normally we use it in the sense of something extraordinary, out of the ordinary, that can’t be explained. Generally it’s a life-saving thing—a miraculous healing, a miraculous escape, a miraculous rescue.

And the other thing we tend to associate with miracles is perfection. The person is perfectly healed. The person is perfectly restored to life and health and family.

But is that true?

Jesus did a lot of miracles in the Bible. He still does them today. I know I’ve been the recipient of several.

But you know, Lazarus still had to die. So did the little girl.

I will die, eventually. So will you. So will your family.

(#LivingMementoMori, y’all! :) )

Sunset—no filter required—outside Orchard House.

Miracles are great. Believe me, I believe in them, as the song says. I believe in them strongly. I pray for them.

But I’ve never had a miracle that fits the definitions above—the “perfect” part. I’ve received miracles, but there are other aspects of them too.

I’ve lost hearing. I almost lost my arm. And those things, in the grand scheme of things, are small, because I’m alive. But when I was sick, I didn’t ask God for perfection. I asked Him for life. I asked for the chance to keep on living.

(In order to get my CF diagnosis, we had to switch pediatricians, which happened because my old pediatrician died. The connection of all of us in the grand story is impossible to unravel. )

Some people don’t get that miracle. Why did I get it, and Sage didn’t? Why are some people healed, and not others?

But there are other kinds of miracles—miracles of grace. The miracle of acceptance, of fortitude, of grace and cheerfulness and continued life even in the face of darkness and doubt and despair.

A miracle doesn’t necessarily mean perfection. It doesn’t mean that we get exactly what we want when we want it, because God knows so much better than we do, which is crazy to think about. What good was achieved by Sage’s death? What good is achieved by so many of the losses, of the pain, of the darkness? What good is achieved when babies die and people commit suicide and people starve?

I don’t know. And neither do you.

God does, though.

God sent His own son to die for us. Every single one of us will face death, and we will face pain and loss of those we love and things we can’t live without.

We beg for miracles. That’s true. That’s right. God wants us to ask for them.

But…..sometimes the miracle isn’t the physical miracle.

You know, Mother Angelica once said she could go to heaven with a broken body, but she couldn’t get there with a broken soul. That’s true.

Pray for the miracles. Pray for God’s intervention. Ask, seek, knock, beg.

But remember that if God doesn’t give you what you want, it doesn’t mean that He didn’t hear you. It doesn’t mean that He’s smiting you. It doesn’t mean that you didn’t have enough faith. (That one gets me, big time. Mary’s baby boy died—and no one had more faith than she did!)

Be thankful for imperfect healing. Be thankful for imperfect life. Be thankful for acceptance.

And the thanks might come on the far side of a lot of yelling at God, or screaming, or almost despair. God I do not understand.

You’re not alone in that. The apostles didn’t understand either. We can’t understand.

What we need to cling to, though, is that in every situation, in all circumstances, God is with us.

This isn’t airy fairy talk. This is talk I know. I know even in the darkest moments, in that valley of death—the real one, actual, true death—God is there, even if I don’t feel Him, and there are times when I haven’t. It’s not like I’m always walking around in a cloud of Blessed Assurance, y’all.

Miracles are gifts to us. But we aren’t owed them. I didn’t do anything to “deserve” getting a second chance at life.

The psalmist says that God’s ways are mysterious. There’s no better place to see that than at the precipice between life and death.

The miracle you might need the most might not be the one you’re asking for.

St. Dominic, the Innkeeper, and Twenty-First Century Preaching

El Greco, St. Dominic in Prayer

There’s a story about St. Dominic that’s familiar to every Dominican, and I think it has important implications for us today.

Here’s how the Nashville Dominicans tell the story on their website:

Two years later a diplomatic trip brought Dominic into the Albi region of Southern France. A strong zeal for the salvation of souls was enkindled when the young canon encountered an innkeeper who was steeped in the errors of the Catharists, a heresy which threatened the region. Although other religious had been commissioned to preach in the region, little progress had been made. After a long night of intense discussion, the light of truth prevailed and the innkeeper returned to the practice of the faith.

So let’s break this down. Think of a hotel. Imagine you’re in the lobby, getting something to drink before you go to bed, and you start making small talk with the desk clerk. You discover that he’s an agnostic.

You have a few options:

Don’t say anything. Just smile and say good night, but mentally pray for him.

Share that you’re Catholic. Don’t go any father.

Tell him that he’s going to Hell.

Say that you’re Catholic and spend the rest of the night trying to browbeat him into submission!

What did St. Dominic do? He talked to the innkeeper. All night. You can imagine that it wasn’t full of highly charged statements (like, hey, you’re going to Hell! Good night!) or polemics. It was probably logical—because we Dominicans love study—and it was probably methodical. And it was also probably gentle. I doubt the innkeeper would’ve stayed up all night if St. Dominic was banging him over the head with proofs!

There’s nothing wrong with a good discussion, including one that gets a little exciting.

My siblings and I are all half-Italian. When we have discussions, we get loud. We get boisterous. We use our hands! For people new to way we converse, you can think we’re arguing. (Growing up, our mother, who is not Italian, often told us to stop arguing. “We’re not arguing! We’re talking!”) St. Dominic was Spanish, so I wonder if he used his hands, too. Maybe!

But there’s a distinction between passionate arguing and getting personal. And on St. Dominic’s Feast Day, that’s what I want to talk about.

St. Dominic (detail) from “Christ Mocked with the Virgin and St. Dominic,” Fra Angelico

One of the mottos of the Dominican order is “Veritas”—truth. We love truth. We live to spread the truth of the Gospel all over the world! And that’s part of the reason we study, so that we can know what the truth is. Truth isn’t about what you think is true, or a “personal truth". (for example, children believe that Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny exist. We could call that their “personal truths.” )

Truth is verifiable. Truth can be known. Sometimes, yes, there is mystery! We will never understand everything—and we’re not meant to. Some things are just beyond our reach on this earth. But we know the truth of faith because it’s able to be studied. It’s able to be seen. We believe in the truth of Jesus Christ. At Mass every week, we say the “credo”—”I believe”. This isn’t what just I believe, or what you believe, or what the pope beliefs, or what Fr. Patrick up on the altar believes. It’s what we have always believed, as a people, a family of faith.

If you are Catholic, you have to know what you believe, and why you believe it—and you have to assent to it. You can’t just say, well, that’s fine for you, but I don’t believe in Transubstantiation. (You would be….wrong!) I don’t believe in the Church’s definition of marriage. I don’t believe in Hell. Etc.

Truth is truth whether you believe in it or not. People believed the earth was flat—but it wasn’t. People believed that slaves weren’t people—but they were. People believe that unborn babies aren’t people—but they are. See how this goes?

It goes without saying that the truth needs to be spread far and wide. That’s part of what Dominicans do.

But, the question is “how to do it.” As the Wicked Witch of the West said, “These things must be handled delicately.” We can’t be too nice that we deny people the truth—because the truth sets them free, and truth is the best thing you can give someone! But we also can’t be so awful and hard-core that we turn people away from hearing the truth and listening to it.

Let’s take a story from the Bible. It’s one that’s familiar to everyone—the story of the woman caught in adultery. I’m going to quote it here, so we can all have it freshly before us:

John 8:3-11

The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in their midst they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such. What do you say?” This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to cast a stone at her.” And once more he bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the eldest, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus looked up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again.”

Do not sin again. That’s the crux, really. We are all sinners. Every single one of us. I am, you are, everyone. None of us is without sin. But Jesus doesn’t say to the woman, “Oh, what you did is fine. Go ahead, go home, it’s all good.” He said, I don’t condemn you. But don’t sin again. That’s what happens when we go to confession—we have to promise to try not to sin again. We can’t just think, oh, I can do what I want, because confession!

Jesus loves us more than we can possibly imagine. And because he does, he doesn’t want us to keep messing up. It makes him sad! Do parents like it when their kids make bad choices? No! But are they angry? Maybe. Are they disappointed and sad? I think this is probably more likely. (I mean, they might be angry at first. But I think then it becomes more sad/disappointed.)

When we discuss heated issues in the twenty-first century, we are not good about being gentle about it, like Jesus is here. Now, yes, Jesus also turned over tables in the temple. Sometimes we can be righteously angry. I get righteously angry whenever I talk about disabilities or abortion. That’s my thing. But if I slip and start calling people names, or want to incite violence against them, I am sinning.

We can be preachers of the word. We have to be, both preachers of the word and doers of it. We have to live the life of Christ. Sometimes that means standing up for people. Sometimes that means living a quiet life of witness. Sometimes it means both!

If you want to make your point, if you want to convert people, you aren’t going to do it, usually, by violence or hatred or name calling. We need to stop doing that. We need to do it like St. Dominic did it—gently, with facts, with truth, and then….step back. See how it goes. Conversions aren’t instantaneously. St. Dominic famously cried, “Oh Lord, what will become of sinners?” He cared about them. He didn’t just want to score a point like in a college debate match. He didn’t want to just win. He wanted the other person to see the truth because it would save them.

Politics in America has always been nasty (see the Election of 1800!). But we must stop seeing each other as enemies across a divide. We have to state our position, but also realize that we can be friends with people who don’t vote the way we do. In fact, we are required to love them.

I know things get heated in the public realm. I worked in politics for 10 years. I saw it, up close and personal. We cannot want to kill our opponents, guys. We can’t approve the shooting of congressmen and women because the victim disagreed with us! What kind of people will we be then?

A story was told to me by the first legislative aide I worked with, who had been in the senate a long time. She said that senators used to argue like crazy on the floor, and then go out to dinner together. They were friends with each other. That was becoming rarer and rarer

Christianity isn’t a religion for wimps. Jesus doesn’t ask us to be a doormat. He asks us—and St. Dominic shows us how—to preach the truth, to live the truth with our lives, to pray for our enemies. We can have discussions—even loud Italian ones! We can be passionate! I’ve always been passionate when talking about the Church.

But there’s a fine line between being passionate, and being so whipped up into a frenzy that you can’t see the human being on the other side.

St. Dominic saw the humanity in the people he met. That’s what drove him to preach—his concern for them and his love for Christ.

Does the same thing compel us?

Trust, Courage, Faith, and Transplants

I had a holy hour last week before Mass, and as I was paging through my Magnificat, I noticed a few things.

Do you see them, too?

Matthew 9:1-8

The Healing of a Paralytic. He entered a boat, made the crossing, and came into his own town. And there people brought to him a paralytic lying on a stretcher. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven.” At that, some of the scribes said to themselves, “This man is blaspheming.” Jesus knew what they were thinking, and said, “Why do you harbor evil thoughts? Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic, “Rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home.” He rose and went home. When the crowds saw this they were struck with awe and glorified God who had given such authority to human beings.

And here….

Matthew 9:18-26

The Official’s Daughter and the Woman with a Hemorrhage. While he was saying these things to them, an official came forward, knelt down before him, and said, “My daughter has just died. But come, lay your hand on her, and she will live.” Jesus rose and followed him, and so did his disciples.  A woman suffering hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the tassel on his cloak.  She said to herself, “If only I can touch his cloak, I shall be cured.”  Jesus turned around and saw her, and said, “Courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you.” And from that hour the woman was cured.

 When Jesus arrived at the official’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd who were making a commotion,  he said, “Go away! The girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they ridiculed him. When the crowd was put out, he came and took her by the hand, and the little girl arose.  And news of this spread throughout all that land.

Do you see it?

Before Jesus heals these people, he tells them to have courage.

A lot of people tell me I am brave.

I am not brave.

Doing what you have to do to keep on breathing is not brave. It’s necessary. Now, granted, I had to make the choice to go for transplant. If I hadn’t done that, then I wouldn’t be sitting here, writing this, precisely fourteen years later. In fact, as I write this (at 10:47 a.m.), fourteen years ago, I was in the OR. My surgery began around 6:45 in the morning (at least that’s when the epidural started, I think). So, yes, I made the decision to go for transplant. Was that brave? I don’t know. I don’t personally think so.

Really, though, a lot of the time, I did not feel brave. I did not have the courage Jesus is telling these people to have.

But as I looked at these verses, I thought, this is right. They need courage for what’s about to happen. Because it’s scary, to be suddenly plunged into a world you didn’t think was possible, something you had hoped for, but didn’t think would actually happen. It’s sort of terrifying.

These people had faith that Jesus could cure them. And I had faith, too. I’ve always had it. I’ve never doubted my faith. But did I have courage? Did I trust Jesus?

Ah. That’s the slow growing bloom of faith. Faith is the seed. But courage and trust? That’s later. That’s a result. It’s the result of a lot of dark nights and lots of tears and feelings of this is never going to happen.

And I can say that even if I hadn’t been transplanted. Remember, God is always good. I would’ve been cured, either in heaven, or here on earth. And I was lucky that I got my miracle here. Some people aren’t as lucky as I was. That’s the sobering fact.

Throughout, though, Jesus tells us to have courage, because something is happening. And it might be something great. But in the moment, there is fear. There is death, as we see with the little girl. But then…

life.

Even if it’s life on the other side of death. We know how this story ends. We know that death is not the winner.

Trust in Jesus sounds great, and it is great, but until you’ve really had to surrender your will, to say I have no control over this—that’s when you need the courage. It takes courage to trust in God.

Jesus knew that. And I think that’s why he tells these people to have it, to grasp it, to be strong in the moment. Because in the moment when the miracle happens, you might feel like you’re going to drown—save me, Lord, I’m perishing!

If I look brave, it’s really because Jesus gives me the courage to take the steps forward. It’s not my courage at all. It’s his.

My Dominican saint is Bl. Lucy of Narni—and yes, she’s the one C.S. Lewis used as inspiration for both the name “Narnia” and Lucy Pevensie. I’ve always loved Lucy. But remember, Aslan tells Lucy, “Courage, dear heart.”

We need to be reminded to have courage, to keep trusting.

A Wedding In the Mountains: Melanie and Jason

(Photos by Mel’s photographer, not me! :) )

My sister got married last week, and I have a new brother!

via GIPHY

We’re excited about this. :)

The wedding was on June 13 at Our Lady of the Mountains Catholic Church.

This is a beautiful church! Pope St. John Paul II visited it during World Youth Day in Denver in 1993.

The church was stunning……so here are pictures (especially for family members who couldn’t come, but really, for everyone, because we all need beauty!)

St. Francis with Brother Elk. I saw quite a few people coming to pray here while we were there. It seems like a really popular devotional spot in Estes Park!

Isn’t she gorgeous?!

The stained glass windows around the nave showcased the sacraments. Thought this one was especially appropriate!

The altar and tabernacle—the tabernacle has the five loaves and two fishes on it.

View from the doors

It’s a really gorgeous church, with a statue of the Sacred Heart, a St. Michael window in the choir loft, and last but not least, a really amazing priest! He gave a beautiful homily on how marriage is about joy and sorrow, how marriage really begins the time you have your first fight (basically) or have a bad/sad moment, and how marriage is about being selfless, instead of selfish, because you’re one now. You’re not two. It was appropriate he spoke about joy, because that’s my sister’s middle name! I wish I had a copy of the homily, it was so inspiring.

The reception was intimate, held at a local steakhouse. But there was still cake (well, cupcake) smashing….

And a first dance….

I was a bridesmaid, so I was busy throughout the day and didn’t have time to take a ton of pictures, but that’s what I have. :)

We stayed at The Stanley Hotel (AKA, where Stephen King got the inspiration for The Shining) and my room had a great view:

So, that’s all I have right now, in terms of photos, but it was a lovely, intimate wedding in a gorgeous place, and I’m so happy for my sister and my new brother in law! :)

Seven Quick Takes--the book has a title, the Jane Re-Read, and summer kicks off!

Linking up with Kelly!

-I-

Hi everyone! Happy Memorial Day Weekend (if you’re in the U.S.)! It’s sort of the unofficial kick off to summer, so there will be barbecues and parties all over the place, and I begin the Great Jane Re-Read, where I re-read Jane Austen’s novels every summer. Want to join me? I’m starting with Sense and Sensibility.

-II-

In case you missed it, my book has a title! It’s a great one! I’m really excited! (Can you tell?) As soon as pre-orders open I will share it here. And, again, as a reminder: If you want book news first, before anyone else, sign up for the mailing list.

-III-

In other book-y news….

Better Together is Take Up & Read’s new summer study! I just got my copy yesterday and she’s beautiful!

This book is all about Biblical Hospitality. Sometimes we get scared of hospitality, because we think we need to have the perfect house and the perfect food and the perfect playlist. That’s not what God calls us to do at all. Hospitality is simply sharing and gathering with people. We aren’t meant to do Christianity alone. Let’s get over the idea that hospitality has to be perfect!

This book would make a great summer study—I do hope you’ll join us!

-IV-

The big event of the summer is that my sister is getting married in Estes Park, CO, in June. So we’re all in the midst of preparing for that. I’ve got my packing list written but I haven’t actually started packing yet. And yes, I know I owe you a Denver travelogue, so that is coming, I promise!

-V-

This California bill is a terrible idea, on multiple fronts—if you live in California, email your reps about this?

The confessional has to be a place of absolute confidentiality. It just does. The state can’t mess with this, or it puts priests in a horrible position—they will either go to jail, or be excommunicated. And it put us, the laity, in a terrible position, because how can you be totally open in confession if you know the priest can repeat what you say? (Not that any priest worth his ordination would.)

No bueno, California! Stop it!

(article version of the video above here)

-VI-

Final edits for the book are being done! Well, not final final. Final as in, for the first draft. My editor will be getting me notes and I imagine next week will be a flurry of back and forth sending. :)

-VII-

And while Memorial Day is the kick off of summer in the U.S., let’s remember what it’s really about.

Seven Quick Takes--The First Draft Exists!

Linking up with Kelly!

I.

The FIRST DRAFT EXISTS!

Yay!

When I first got the contract information, the fact that Ave Maria wanted a first draft by June 1 was daunting to some people I talked to. “Can you do it in two months?”

HELL YES I CAN.

via GIPHY

II.

Why was I so confident?

Because I have journalism training. And political training.

And when you have both of those, you learn to write quickly, on ridiculous deadlines.

Deadlines? WHAT DEADLINES.

So, thank you to Professor Kelly Messinger in college for all the Chimes Wednesday nights where we ate Chipotle and wrote into the wee hours! And edited! And wrote! And edited!

III.

Now, that doesn’t mean it’s always easy, because sometimes….

via GIPHY

But then I apply my Maxim: You cannot edit a blank page.

Get anything on the page. Anything. Let it sit there and then come back later and edit it. You never know what can happen.

Chapter 10, for example? WENT OFF THE RAILS. I had no idea where I was going with that one, and we went somewhere I had not anticipated. But there it is!

(It might not stay the way it is. LOL.)

IV.

Speaking of writing—my ebook, Catholic 101, is now $5!

That’s it. Five bucks, y’all.

Go get it!

via GIPHY

V.

I also promise to have the Denver travel posts up next week. This week was just nuts, with getting the first draft done….oh, and getting a new CI processor!!!!!!!

VI.

So, if you want more on the CI, you can visit my series here. Basically I was glad to have hearing, but the processor I had had shortcomings. I couldn’t use the phone.

Now….I might be able to use the phone! I mean, what?!

via GIPHY

I can listen to my voicemails and understand them!

So far, this new processor is a game changer.

VII.

Oh, one more thing about the draft—a question I’ve been getting a lot is, “Well, didn’t you have to write the book before you submitted it?”

Short answer: No. Most places, for non-fiction, want a proposal, with a chapter sample, but not the whole book. I’ll talk more about the parts of the process later (especially in my newsletter!). But, no. I had to write the book to the proposal specs.

Seven Quick Takes--Colorado, Mother's Day, and Mammograms

Linking up with Kelly!

-1-

I was in Colorado last week (hence why no blog posting!) for my sister’s bachelorette weekend. I’d never been to Colorado before!

One of the floral butterflies in Downtown Denver

The Collegiate Peaks in Buena Vista

Mel and I at Mt. Princeton Hot Springs.

—II—

I’ll write more about Denver next week, but here’s what I learned, in short, about going to altitude:

Drink a lot of water. Like, insane amounts.
Bring saline nasal spray. My nose was SO dry!
Bring a portable charger, because altitude seems to drain phone batteries faster
SUNSCREEN. ALL THE SUNSCREEN.

—III—

Our trip included Denver (my sister lives in Littleton) and Buena Vista, where the cabin weekend was held. I didn’t realize it was sort of desert-y down there. I should’ve expected it, but some how, I didn’t. I had never been in that sort of environment before, so it was definitely a new experience. I learned that I like green!

—IV—
Anyway, more on CO next week. It’s been awhile since I’ve done some travel posts, so it’ll be fun!

—V—

Amy Welborn wrote a great piece about Mother’s Day and parishes, and I’d encourage you to read it.
Mother’s Day is, to put it nicely, fraught. I really don’t think it should be celebrated as part of the Mass. Mass is for the worship of God, not for the worship of ourselves. If parishes want to do something for mothers (or graduates, or whatever), then they can do it after Mass. Blessings, etc.? After Mass.

I know so many people who are struggling with infertility. I, myself, will never have children. Let’s also think about people who have lost their mothers, or have not-great relationships with their mothers, or have other issues with their moms. Let’s realize this. Sure, mothers are important! (Love you, Mom! :) )

But do we need to make it such a big part of the Mass?

Same thing with Father’s Day. And also, I don’t think we do Father’s day nearly as much as we do mother’s day.

Celebrate your mom, but parishes, please do this after Mass.

And for the love of the Lord, do not make people hug their mothers at Mass! (see the comments in the article for that one.)

(And yes, I love my mother. :) This isn’t about not loving Mom!)

—V—

And because it’s my blog, I’ll expound a little more. One of the comments at the bottom of Amy’s post was all about “celebrating” at Mass. Having visitors stand up, or graduates be recognized, or birthday people be recognized.

I got one word for this:

NOPE.

via GIPHY

People. Mass is not the time for this.

Mass is for THE WORSHIP OF GOD.

If you want to recognize birthdays, do it in a bulletin.

You want to recognize the grads? Have a reception in June after a Mass.

I CRINGE at the thought of making visitors stand up. I hate this. Why do you think a visitor would want to be recognized?! And what does that have to do with Mass? (This visitor never wants to be recognized. Ever. Just let me come to Mass.)

Yes, I realize I’m an old and cranky person here.

But I think it was Benedict XVI who said something like, if we’re applauding during Mass, we’ve completely lost the plot. (I’m paraphrasing, obviously)

Mass is not about us.

If you want to celebrate community things, that’s great. Do it after Mass.

—VI—

Well, that felt good. LOL. .

Writing of the book is going well. My next newsletter for subscribers should be sent out next week, so if you’re not a subscriber, do it now!

I’m 2/3 of the way done with the manuscript. This week has been some hard sledding but you know, the important thing is to get words on a page. So that’s been happening. You can edit words on a page. You can’t edit a blank one.

—VII—

I also had my first mammogram this week. My mom had breast cancer at age 47, so I had to get my baseline done 10 years before her diagnosis—hence, at 37. Since I turned 37 last month, it was time.

I was nervous about it—I’d heard horror stories about it hurting, especially with transplant scars (this might be TMI, but—for my transplant, the incisions are about where a bra underwire is).

But I had a great, careful tech, who made sure that nothing was pinching, and it wasn’t really bad at all. Yeah, the skin is being squished, but that didn’t really hurt.

Ladies—you need to get a mammogram at age 40. You might have to do it earlier, if you’re like me and have family history. Please, please, please check your own screening requirements and set this up.

(And finally, if you missed it, there was a yarn along on Wednesday!)

Seven Quick Takes In a Deluge

Linking up with Kelly!

I.

OK, so, first, I’m thrilled to tell you that the talk I recorded for Kelly’s conference has been accepted! Yay! I’m part of the speaker’s library that attendees will have access to!

What is this conference, you might ask? Kelly has created a conference for Catholic parents of kids with special needs, called “Accepting the Gift.” You can attend in person, OR (and I love this part), you can attend virtually! How cool is that? So if you can’t make it to New Jersey, you can still attend!

Here is the conference page, so check it out! And do attend!

II.

This is also the first talk I’ve done as an adult—I did a witness talk at my parish mission when I was sixteen—but I really do like my talk, all things considered. :) It’s called “Joy Anyway”, and it’s about living life with a chronic illness, because, a lot of the time, we hear from the parents of people like me, but not the actual people who have the illness, and so I’m thrilled that Kelly asked me to contribute my thoughts, because I do care about this quite passionately, as you all know. :)

And of course I love the parents! Parents are awesome! But it’s important to get the perspective from the person with “the thing” as well, in my book. So, thanks Kelly for asking me! (And accepting the talk!)

III.

OK so yeah, it’s deluging here right now. Lots and lots and lots of rain being dumped on Orchard House at the moment. I overslept this morning and this is probably why, because it’s really dark outside. Not that I mind—I generally like rainy days.

IV.

Today is part of the editing process in the writing of the book. My editor has sent me chapters back, and now I go through and play with them and see what I can do to make them better. Some of the changes I just accepted on the first go round because they were easy (like, adapting to the press’s style guide) or just made sense. Bigger changes require more thought and distance, so that’s what I’m doing today.

V.

My birthday was on Tuesday, so I’m thirty-seven now! And it was a gorgeous day, which is rare in central Ohio in early April—it snowed on my birthday (as in the day I was born). But yesterday it was 82 and kids were in the pool, which made me shiver just seeing them in there, because that water was going to be cold!

ANYWAY (digression over!), it was a good birthday with sun and good food.

No, Emily did not eat all this cake. Emily did not come close to eating all this cake. We shared it. :)

VI.

I also think that everyone should like their birthday. Because birthdays mean you survived another trip around the sun! Yay!!!!!! Birthdays are great! I mean, yeah, I’m thirty-seven, but to me, that’s sort of awesome. I wasn’t supposed to hit thirty-three. I wouldn’t have seen twenty-seven without Suzanne, my donor. So, yeah. Birthdays rock.

VII.

It’s hockey playoff time, and Dad and I are going to see the Jackets play the Tampa Bay Lightning on Sunday! This has been a bucket list item for me for awhile—seeing an NHL playoff game. The nice thing is that since the Jackets are playing Tampa, I can unreservedly root for them. When they play the Penguins in the playoffs (as they’ve done before), I can’t do that, I’m torn! But now, I can root for them all the way. It’s going to be great! The Jackets have all sorts of things planned—there’s a big plaza in front of the arena so there will be activities, and the arena opens up earlier than usual so people can head in and start the party. I hope the Jackets win! (They won the first game on Wednesday in Tampa in an amazing comeback. They play tonight. Pens are down one game to none against the Islanders. If you don’t care about hockey, I’m sorry this take was all hockey. :) )

Seven Quick Takes--House Updates, Writing, Hockey

Linking up with Kelly!

I.

So, first, the Penguins are in the playoffs for the thirteenth year in a row. This makes me happy.

(If you’re new here—I’m a huge hockey fan. The Penguins are my “main” team. The Blue Jackets are my “home” team and I want them to make the playoffs too, which they will do if they win one of their next two games.)

II.

Orchard House is in the stage of “personalization” or “zhushing” as they say on Home Town. I’m putting up pictures and other fun things, like my refreshed ribbon board in my bedroom:

III.

If you want to see how tiny Emily was in college, here’s my college ID closeup, along with one of my favorite magazine cutouts:

IV.

And about the button. It says “Italians for President Nixon.” Now, obviously, I wasn’t alive to vote for Nixon. But one of my best friends, Branden, is an auctioneer (as well as about 5 million other things, including our county clerk), and he loves political memorabilia, so he thought I’d like it, since I’m half Italian. And I do like it. It’s funny.

V.
The big pink piece of paper is an audience ticket my friend Amilia gave me. She was lucky enough to attend a general audience with Pope St. John Paul II, and she gave me the ticket. You can tell I’ve had it FOREVER, it’s all sun bleached, but I love it.

VI.

The dog picture? That’s Liberty, who used to be Colonial Williamsburg’s mascot. I was so psyched to meet her when we visited two years ago! She was such a good dog!

VII.

I could keep telling stories, but I’ll wrap up with a writing update! (Maybe next week I’ll tell more stories? What do you think? Because everything on this board has a story!)

So I’ve sent chapters 1-4 to my editor. She has sent me edits for chapters 1-2. So we are really making progress! Yayyyy!

Joy In the Morning (OR: How I get up every day and do life)

My siblings and I on my brother’s wedding day.

Warning: This might be a sort of rambly post. Settle in.

I was visiting my therapist last week. Yes, I see a therapist. I have since I was 17. A lot of people with CF do (not all, but a lot). I have no shame in telling you that.

So anyway, I was at an appointment with my therapist, and we were talking about how I was a bit maxed out on doctor visits. I mean, in almost thirty-seven years of life, I think my quota’s been hit, right?

And that doesn’t even count the other “stuff” we do—Mom accessing my port every month, the meds I take (which are vastly less than pre-transplant, btw), the blood glucose tests I’m doing twice a day now, etc. It’s a lot. It’s less than pre-transplant in some ways, and more in others. I have a colonoscopy every five years, which means one next year. I have a mammogram in April, because my mom had breast cancer and so my sister and I have to start our mammograms at age 37 (ten years before Mom was diagnosed). And then there’s dentists and eye doctors and the things normal people do.

So, yeah, it’s a lot.

This led to talking about compliance, which means, doing what the doctors tell you to do. And I told a story that I thought was illustrative.

When I was about seventeen, I was having a regular clinic visit, an I saw a sign on the wall of the exam room, saying that if you were 95% compliant with taking pulmozyme (one of the CF meds), you’d get a prize at your next clinic visit, see your nurse for a chart to win! Stuff like that.

Now, I never did these, because, generally, I was too old. This stuff was generally for the smaller kids, to get them in the habit. But what I thought was interesting was that the center wasn’t pushing perfect compliance.

Because that doesn’t exist.

Now, look, I’m not saying I was a slacker. Because I wasn’t. My mom, for one, wouldn’t let me be, even if I was disposed that way. I take my meds. I did my treatments. But yes, sometimes there were times where I put in a few minutes of precious sleep over a “perfect” Vest treatment, when I was in college. Sometimes I just went to bed. Not often, but sometimes. I wasn’t “perfect”, and I’m not perfect now. To be “perfect” now, I’d be a MESS. I’d be taking meds all day long, worrying about timings and if this was going to interact with that and how does this work and oh my gosh my brain is going to explode!

I take all my meds, and I take them twice a day. Is that perfect? Well, no. It’s not optimal. If can affect absorptions. *

But here’s the thing—I want a life. I don’t want to live in a glass bubble.

I went to school. I did activities. I rode bikes with my friends and went to the pool in the summer with them and then we went to the coffee shop and played board games. I had sleep overs, where I didn’t bring my equipment! I went on choir tour! (And yes, I brought the mini nebulizer!) I went to college.

Honestly, if my parents had tried to wrap me up in the bubble, I would’ve had a fit. I always wanted to be like everyone else, as much as possible. As Erin once said in a Home Town episode, I’m like a wild pony, and I need freedom!

(Not too much freedom. But enough freedom.)

So anyway, talking about all the things I had to do every day, my therapist then said, well, how do you do it? I mean, what gets you up in the morning?

And then I said, “well, that’s sort of what my book is about.” (Because it sort of is. Sort of. The book is sort of about a lot of things! )

But here’s what it comes down to:

Yes, there are a lot of things I have to do in my life. More than the average bear, that’s for sure, so when people say “well, you just have to suck it up and do X,” I want to roll my eyes, because that’s a big chunk of my day. (I’d wager it’s a large part of everyone’s day. As my grandfather used to say, “that’s why they call it work!”) But yeah, for me, and for other people like me, we have a lot of stuff on a daily basis that isn’t fun but must be done, and you just do it and don’t whine about it.

But what gets me up in the morning? Well, a lot of things. I’m very in touch with my inner child and I get excited about really little things. When I was working in the Senate, a lunch date with my Dad was enough to make me excited for the day. Today, it’s stuff like, a package is coming in the mail! It’s a hockey night in Pittsburgh! I get to write today! Oh, this book comes out! My book is in at the library! Chuy’s with Mary!

I’m very easily amused. And that helps me, I think, because it overrides a lot of other things that are not so fun. (Like making myself go to the gym. And poking my fingers. And doing doctor paperwork.)

But a big part of this, and this is what I’d say to anyone facing a chronic illness, is this:

Go live your life!

You really, really, really cannot hole up in your house and be all sheltered. You can’t. GO LIVE YOUR LIFE. Go outside! Do things! Be free! Have fun! Go to the park! Go swimming! Pet a dog! Whatever!

Yes, treatments are vital. YES, compliance is important—if I hadn’t been a compliant patient I NEVER would’ve been listed for transplant! But if you’re caught up in PERFECT, then…..you’re going to miss things and your life will be so small.

Seriously. Do what the sign says.

Live your life. Take your brain with you.

*: As far as absorptions: the only meds I take that NEED to be taken around the same time every day are my immunosuppressants (the prograf). That’s important. However, I am also far enough out that if I’m off by a few hours in a dose, the world will not end. When I traveled to LA, my nurses told me to just take the meds on LA time and not worry about being exact. I used to take my meds exactly at 8 AM and 8 PM (even rushing to the lobby of the Ohio Theater to take meds before a symphony concert started). Now, it’s generally around those times. I’m not quite as OCD.

The meds I’m talking about here are things like my nexium and magnesium supplements. You’re not, really, supposed to take them together. But if I didn’t, then I’d be carrying around meds all day and thinking about when to take them, as opposed to thinking about things more worthy of my brain space! It’s not a huge deal to take them together. But yes, some meds do have to be taken at certain times, and when I do those (like home IVs) then, yes, it’s on the dot as much as possible. You usually have about an hour leeway on either side of the dose time (for example, if the dose is due at 6 PM, you can do it at 5 or 7, but not 4 or 8.)

Orchard House

I’ve decided to call the new place Orchard House, for a few reasons.

One, Little Women was the first “adult” book I read, back in third grade, and it’s always resonated with me, in various stages. As a kid, I liked Amy, because she looked like me (the blonde). Of course I evolved into Jo, the writer; Beth, the one who stayed behind, was also relevant for a lot of my life, although I’ve never been that sweet, and she played piano, which I do (sort of—I’m self-taught). Meg, the oldest, has also had resonance over the years.

Also, Orchard House was a cozy place of creation—the girls were always making something—but it was a home. Sort of idealized, yes, but a comfortably, cozy, safe place. Who doesn’t like that idea?

And of course, there will be lots of writing happening here. So I’ll be channeling Jo in her attic room. Although my room isn’t an attic and it’s a bit nicer.

I love my desk!

So, a snapshot of the new place, and it’s name. More decorating photos to come, but I wanted to introduce you!

The Week of Everything

A gorgeous rose from the bouquet my brother and sister in law sent me, celebrating the book!

This is the week of everything.

I’ve started writing the book.

I will sign the contract this week.

I’m moving.

Yup, it’s a lot.

But in the midst of all this good stress (and it is good stress), I’m really thankful for my body.

And that’s weird for me to say, because normally, my body and I are at odds. It’s not perfect, by any standard. And it never will be. It’s always going to be ‘Healthy for me’, which is not healthy for anyone else, generally.

But right now, it’s able to take out big bags of trash, and go under beds and cabinets, and pack boxes, and clean toilets. It’s slow going, because my knee never really recovered from the meds last fall, which messed it up, and I still only have 54% lung function (which is so much better than 19%, don’t get me wrong!), so I don’t work as quickly as someone else might.

But my body can do these things. And I’m really grateful for that. It can do these physical tasks, and I can type these words.

So even though it’s the week of Everything, and I’m running around like a crazy person, I’m glad I can run around like a crazy person.

No yarn along this week, and no quick takes, because it’s The Week of Everything!

But next week, maybe a tour of the new place?

Listen Up! (For World Hearing Day)

(c) Wikipedia

World Hearing Day was yesterday, and so I thought I’d put up links to the post I wrote last year, about my CI and how it works and ways people can make hearing better for everyone!

So if you missed them the first time:

Part I: How I lost my hearing

Part II: How the Cochlear Implant Works

Part III: Living with a CI

Part IV: Accommodations, i.e., the post that you should read even if you don’t read any of the others!

I am (hopefully!) getting my CI upgraded in the next few months. The current processor I have has been “obsoleted”, meaning that if it breaks, Cochlear (the company who makes my processor) won’t fix it, they won’t sell any more replacement parts for it, etc. Now, they do this, in part, so that insurance companies will pay for new processors, because if it can’t be fixed anymore, then, yeah. Probably need an upgrade. This one should be better and allow me to hear more, but I have no idea until I get it. :) I do know that it will have bluetooth capability so it can stream my iPhone sound directly into my processor, and this might be a big thing. We’ll see what happens and I’ll let you know!

And thinking about my CI is timely because of a conversation I had in a lung transplant group on facebook. We were talking about the toxicity of a certain class of meds, and that they are crazy hard on the body. Some people were adamant that they would never take a drug in that class.

But here’s the thing—all meds are toxic at some point. They just are. Tylenol is! I knew that the ototoxic drugs were destroying my hearing. But I decided I’d rather be alive, than dead with great hearing. It’s about choices. And sometimes, yes, you just have to cut out a class of drugs. The meds I took over the fall for a sinus infection have pretty much messed up my right knee permanently. I’m not really happy about that. But you know, I like being alive, I like that we managed to stop the infection without it 1) getting into my lungs and 2) requiring the big guns of IV meds and /or hospitalization.

It’s a trade off.

Got $20? You can feed a child for an entire YEAR!

I am a BIG fan of Mary’s Meals, and you should be, too! Let me tell you why.

(Also, SUPER cute video at the bottom!)

One of the Mary’s Meals t-shirts I picked up at the Columbus Catholic Women’s Conference last weekend.

As we approach Lent, people start to think about Lenten penances, and the pillars of Lent: Almsgiving, Fasting, and Prayer. We should think about these things all year, of course, but especially during Lent, when we prepare for Christ’s Death and we imitate His 40 days in the desert.

It’s sobering to think about people who do not have enough to eat, who are truly starving. Not just “food insecure”, but really, truly, starving. People who will not eat on a daily basis. According to World Vision, one in eight people in the developing world do not have enough to eat.

Mary’s Meals has a simple idea: One nutritious meal every day for a child in a place of education.

Children who are hungry can’t learn. That seems obvious, right? You can’t think if you’re starving.

64 MILLION children around the world who are hungry can’t attend school—they have to beg for their food instead.

Mary’s Meals wants to stop that—they want to help children LEARN and be fed.

So, in 18 country around the world, they set up food serving stations at schools, run by local volunteers, who feed the children a nutritious meal every school day. In some places, it’s an actual school. In others, like in India, it’s “non-formal education centers”, like railway platforms, where kids learn and eat. In Madagascar, they actually feed children in prison, because in the prisons, the food service isn’t consistent. The kids learn and get fed.

Feeding one child for an entire school year costs $19.50.

That’s it! $20 feeds a child who otherwise wouldn’t eat. And when they eat, they are better equipped to learn, and as they learn, they can get out of poverty, get a job, and help themselves and their families break the cycle of crushing poverty.

Currently, Mary’s Meals is feeding more than one million children around the world! Which is amazing, but there is still more work to be done.

Magnus McFarlane-Barrow, the founder and CEO of Mary’s Meals, spoke at the conference last weekend, and he is passionate about feeing these children, about making a difference, and it’s so simple to do. This isn’t a hard thing. They will do anything to get these kids food; in Haiti, they deliver food to the foot of a mountain and carry the food up to the school settlement! Even though Mary’s Meals is dedicated to Mary, the Mother of God, and Magnus is Catholic, the schools serves everyone, not just religious schools.

This Lent, I think it’s a great idea to support Mary’s Meals however you can. Maybe you eat a simple meal and save the money you would’ve spent on going out—do that once a week, and at the end, give the money to Mary’s Meals. Maybe you can hold a bake sale or a fundraiser at your school. There are lots of ways to help!

Donate right here. Think about it. $20—a movie ticket and a soda, or an entree at a nice restaurant—that can feed a kid for an entire year. That makes a huge difference in a child’s life.

To find out more, watch Child 31, the documentary about Mary’s Meals:

And the follow-up, Generation Hope:



And if you like the actor Gerard Butler, like I do (he was in The Phantom of the Opera!), then you’ll love this video of him directing kids in Haiti at a Mary’s Meals school!

Be Like Briony! (Or: Disability and Reality TV)

So, I love the Great British Bake Off. Do you? :)

(For those of you who have no idea what it is: 12 bakers in Britain bake three challenges every week—two they can practice, one they can’t—they don’t even know what it is. The bakes cover pies (their pies, not American pies), cookies (biscuits in England), bread, patisserie, all sorts of things. At the end of each week, one person is “Star Baker” and one person is sent home.)

Anyway, I was watching the 2018 Bake Off on Netflix over the weekend, and I was super happy to see Briony, one of the contestants, on the show. Why? Well, first, she’s just great, but second, because she has a disability and she didn’t make hay about it!

(c) Channel 4 (UK)

She has what she calls a “little hand”—it’s a birth defect where she only has six fingers:

Explaining why she and Channel 4 chose not to mention what she has dubbed her “little hand”, the 33-year-old said: "I specified early on that I didn’t want them to make a big deal out of it because I just wanted to see how people would view it".

Williams went on to say that her disability is “a part of me, not all of me” before adding: “It’s not that I’m embarrassed about it or ashamed of it in any way. I want to be there on my own merit and I don’t want people to think that I’m getting special treatment.

Think about this. BAKING! With six fingers!

But what I love is that it’s never mentioned on the show. Never. She just bakes. She doesn’t use special equipment, there aren’t any “special moments” where she has a tender music fueled close-up where she talks about “overcoming”. She just does her stuff! And it’s great stuff!

When I was on Jeopardy! I didn’t really want to talk about my transplant. But….I did. Because that was the most “interesting” thing about me, apparently (eye roll). And they did make accommodation for me—but I didn’t ask for it—they did it in the interest of fairness, because they wanted to be scrupulously fair. So there weren’t any video categories for my game, or any music clues (even thought I might have done OK with that!).

The reason I like this so much is because I HATE a lot of reality TV—especially the talent/singing shows, where the singer comes up and does her bit and then spiels all about her issues.

Look. THIS DRIVES ME NUTS. I have always wanted to be judged solely on my abilities. I would never enter a contest and then pay the pity card. EVER. I didn’t do it for Jeopardy!, I don’t do it when I audition for shows, I don’t do it, period. Because I don’t want to get pity. I want to get respect for what I can do. So when I see people talking about how “Oh, this person with X was crowned Homecoming Queen!” or “this person with Y is on X Factor!” I want to scream. Because it makes it sound like that person only did these things because of pity. Not because of their excellence, their human qualities, their goodness, etc., but they become like side shows. “Oh, look, this person can be like anyone else!” these shows croon. Whereas Briony (and I hope, me) just go out and do it. We don’t have to draw attention to it. It just is. Not everything has to be a Special Inspirational Story of the Day!

Briony is my sort of person. She has an issue, yeah. But I mean, it’s not her whole identity. I’ll tell you I’m hearing impaired. Blog readers know it. But if you met me in actual life, you might not know. The people on Jeopardy! didn’t know until I told them. That’s how I like it. If I need accommodation, I’ll tell you. But I want to be judged on my merits, not on the pity you feel for me. I do not want pity votes.

Briony got on the show because she’s a kick butt baker. And that’s what matters!